Here's Lookin' At You, Kid
by siriusly delusional
Summary: Eiri frequently secretly writes poetry. In which I write horribly, quote too many things, and in general make Oscar Wilde roll over in his grave. Flames are welcome, this story probably deserves them. EiriShuichi.


**"Here's Lookin' At You, Kid..."**

**A Fanfiction By: **_Emilyz Da Koolest_

**Disclaimer: **_Gravitation belongs to the wonderful Maki Murikami, the song '2HB' belongs to Roxy Music, and _'The Ballad Of Reaing Gaol' _belongs to the late, great Oscar Wilde (or Us Car Wifcle...inside joke about the Marques de Queensberry's inability to write legibly), which is really just a roundabout way of saying that I don't own a single thing... It's sort of depressing, really... Oh well. Oh, and a complete list of the songs I drew inspiration from and/or quoted will be at the end of the story. Enjoy!_

**Author's Notes:** _I love Gravitation. I love Oscar Wilde. It only seems natural to mix the two of them, right? Well, I thought so, anyway. I was bored and decided to look up _The Ballad of Reading Gaol_ the other day so I might read it in it's entirety. And once I reached a certain passage in it, I immediately thought of Eiri. Thus the idea for this story took shape and you are reading it right now, this very second. Exciting, isn't it? Yeah, not really, I agree. So, enough of my babbling! The real point of this Author's Note is to tell you that I hate this piece of my writing. It's trite, poorly written, and I quote too many things. I did this for a writing exercise one day and it just sort of got out of hand. I mean, I like the beginning and middle enough to actually post it (just not on they'd flay me for bad writing!), but the ending is just... I really hate this ending. It's such...utter...crap. Oh well, I hope you'll forgive me! Read and review!_

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Yuki Eiri had never been one for poetry. Hell, truth be told, he had never been one for romance novels, but they were easy to write and they payed the bills, so he wrote them anyways. It wasn't that he didn't understand poetry, no, that wasn't the case. He knew all about it and, under the orders of his therapist, had been encouraged to read it and even, when he was feeling particularly down, write a verse of his own. And, being in an oddly complient mood and also being much too tired to argue, Eiri had agreed so readily his therapist almost put him on another medication.

Not knowing where to begin, he had even gone so far as to ask her if she knew of any poets he could use as a catalyst; someone he could draw inspirtation from. She gave him a sort of upraising look that made him regret asking for a second, and, as if she weren't sure she was doing the right thing, handed him a crisp new poetry book with certain pages marked, telling him that he could keep it. Eiri gave her an odd look, but thanked her politely and accepted it, tucking it under his arm as he left his session.

He opened the book for the first time whenever he got home, flipping to a random page somewhere near the center and began to read what was on the page.

_...The man had killed the thing he loved_

_And so he had to die_

_Yet each man kills the thing he loves _

_By each let this be heard, _

_Some do it with a bitter look, _

_Some with a flattering word, _

_The coward does it with a kiss, _

_The brave man with a sword! _

_Some kill their love when they are young, _

_And some when they are old; _

_Some strangle with the hands of Lust, _

_Some with the hands of Gold: _

_The kindest use a knife, because _

_The dead so soon grow cold. _

_Some love too little, some too long, _

_Some sell, and others buy; _

_Some do the deed with many tears, _

_And some without a sigh: _

_For each man kills the thing he loves, _

_Yet each man does not die. _

...That had struck a cord with him. A cord that he had never wanted to be played. It spoke so many things, whispered in his ears and he slammed the book shut, pushing it as far away from him as he could. Before he had read that poem, he had always thought that poetry was nothing but Roses are Red and other similar clichés that held no meaning. That poem had been so different... It had scared him.

Later, he would pick up the book and read that poem in it's entirety and he would have a whole new definition of what poetry was and could be.

Later, he would pick up his pen, and he would write:

_Now he's gone,_

_I dont know why._

_And till this day,_

_Sometimes I cry._

_He didn't even say goodbye,_

_He didn't take the time to lie..._

_Bang Bang,_

_I shot you down_

_Bang Bang,_

_You hit the ground_

_Bang Bang,_

_That awful sound_

_Bang Bang,_

_I used to shoot you down..._

It was short, nothing like _The Ballad of Reading Gaol _had been, but it was full of meaning and that was all that mattered to Eiri. It didn't have to be long or perfect because they were only for him. Aside from himself, his therapist would be the only other soul that would ever see it. After all, he was still no poet and romance novels sold much better than poetry.

Writing poetry soon turned into a sporatic habit. Any time he felt the inspiration, the tingle in his fingers to pick up a pen and jot down a poem, he would do so. They almost always had something to do with Kitazawa Yuki, but his therapist never minded, so he continued with his usual subjects. In one of them that his therapist had liked especially, he mused:

_I loved his secret places,_

_But I can't go anymore..._

Then, Yuki Eiri, Japan's most popular and gifted romance novelist, murderer, closest homosexual, and secret poet, met Shindou Shuichi, wannabe superstar musician, terrible lyricist, also a homosexual, and punk kid.

At first, Eiri had tried to forget their encounter, tried to forget that the kid had been so much like Kitazawa-sensei, so much like his own sixteen year old self. But when he had told his therapist about the meeting, she pressed him with questions. Why was it so important to him to tell the kid he had no talent? What made him want to be so cruel to someone he didn't even know? What did he feel whenever he saw the kid's reaction?

"Because," he told the psyciatrist in a very impatient tone, a wonderfully useful defense mechnism but which never worked on the doctor. "He was stupid and ignorant and obviously knew nothing about love or writing. How else is he going to learn? And why should I give a damn if I made him cry?"

Truth be told, the great Yuki Eiri-sama had felt a twinge of guilt at upseting the kid so much, but there was no way he was going to tell his therapist that. Her only response was to give him a look he couldn't quite interpret and tell him that his time was up.

Thanking her, Eiri left the office.

On his way home, however, he had nearly turned one Shuichi Shindou into road kill with his brand new Mercedes Sle, ended up taking the kid home to avoid a scene, and, of course, insulted him furthur.

He had thought, with just a tinge of regret, that maybe Shuichi would give up on him after being offended twice, but the exact opposite happened. Just a few days later, he came back to invite Eiri to his band's concert with some obsurd need to prove himself. And, despite his pride, despite the fact that he kept telling himself he would never, ever get involved with another man in his life, Yuki Eiri went to that concert.

"Shuichi Shindou," Eiri would later muse to his therapist during one of his sessions, "is the single most infuriating individual I have ever had the profound misfortune of meeting... and I think that I'm a better person because of such a misfortune."

At first, Eiri didn't notice the changes he was going through. In fact, it was when he had brought another poem to his pysciatrist, that he had truly begun to notice it.

_I can't see New York_

_As I'm circling down_

_Through white cloud_

_Falling out _

_And I know _

_His lips are warm _

_But I can't seem _

_To find my way out _

_My way out_

_Of your hunting ground..._

He was writing it to Kitazawa, like all of the others, but this, as his doctor pointed out with a slight smile on her lips, proved that he was reaching out--trying to get over his long-dead teacher. When he showed her his next poem, the smile grew wider. It was a little annoying to Eiri. The poem read:

_What was it about that night?_

_Connection - in an isolating age..._

_For once the shadows gave way to light._

_For once I didn't disengage._

"All you need to do to get better, Eiri-sama," she said whilst adjusting her glasses, "is to not despair. If you really want this, if you want this connection with Shindou-san to last, you have to make it happen."

Eiri made no comment, simply bowed and thanked her, leaving the office once again, finally heading home.

Two years later from that day, it would amaze Eiri how fast Shuichi had made it past his barriers. For six years Tohma Seguchi had tried to do the very same thing and made little to no progress, and, in just third of that time, Shuichi had learned more about his lover than anyone else did. Eiri wasn't so afraid of connection any more... He had learned not to despair; not to push everyone away.

Whenever he had shown his therapist this poem, she beamed at him and immediately canceled all of his medications, something that shocked Eiri throughly. She had even hugged him before he left, which she had never done before in the whole seven and a half years he had been her patient.

_They've got a wall in china_

_It's a thousand miles long_

_To keep out the foreigners_

_They made it strong_

_And I've got a wall around me_

_That you can't even see_

_It took a little time_

_To get next to me_

_If something goes wrong_

_I'm the first to admit it_

_The first to admit it_

_But the last one to know_

_If something goes right_

_Well, it's likely to lose me_

_It's apt to confuse me_

_Because it's such an unusual sight_

_Oh I can't get used to something so right_

_Something so right_

_Some people never say the words_

_I love you_

_It's not their style to be so bold_

_Some people never say the words_

_I love you_

_But like a child_

_I'm longing to be told_

_They've got a wall in china_

_And I've got a wall around me_

_It took a little time_

_To get next to me_

Once again, Yuki Eiri found himself writing a poem, but this one was different. The others had been for his and his therapist's eyes only. This time, he wanted it to be the dedication of his book.

Whenever he had told his therapist about his plans, she had looked surprised, but assured him that if he felt this was something he needed to do to continue the healing process, then he must do it. He was, in a bigger way then he wanted to admit, comforted by her support.

This was something that he needed to do...

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Everyone in Japan was eagerly awaiting the release of the latest Eiri Yuki novel, _Hours,_ as they stood outside their local bookstores, hands itching to get on their own reserved copies.

And Shuichi Shindou was no exception.

After watching a TV interveiw with his lover, he first heard about the dedication that would appear in the pages. Everyone was buzzing to know what it said and who it was for, and, Shuichi being the curious musician that he was, couldn't help himself either. What if it was for someone else? Yuki Kitazawa? Tohma Seguchi? Some nameless woman he had slept with way back win? Millions of possibilities ran through Shuichi's head and, with shaking hands, he opened his book and read.

A smile lifted the corners of his mouth and shook his head, closing the book and holding it tightly to his chest as if it were some precious treasure. "Here's lookin' to you, too, Yuki...," he whispered softly to himself as he headed home to his lover, knowing now, with perfect clarity, that Yuki Eiri, Japan's most popular and gifted romance novelist, murderer, closest homosexual, and secret poet, loved him, Shindou Shuichi, wannabe superstar musician, terrible lyricist, also a homosexual, and punk kid.

Words don´t express my meaning

Notes could not spell out the score

But finding not keeping´s the lesson

Here´s looking at you kid

Hard to forget

Here´s looking at you kid

At least not yet

Your memory stays

It lingers ever

Will fade away never...

The End

Song List:

"The Ballad of Reading Gaol" by Oscar Wilde... it's not a song, but a poem... oh well, it's still in the list.

"Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)" by Nancy Sinatra... I love the Kill Bill soundtrack.

"Northern Lad" by Tori Amos... such a sad song.

"I Can't See New York" by Tori Amos...again.

"What You Own" from RENT...don't judge me!

"Something So Right" by Annie Lennox... actually, I think she covered it, but I don't know who did it originally... I also did a graphic design piece with the lyrics to this song and Gravitation pictures at my Tech School that was fifty layers on Adobe Photoshop with my free time... It's hanging up in my room and it rocks!

and finally...

"2HB" by Roxy Music... I am in love with Velvet Goldmine... it's like Jesus.


End file.
